


Gutted

by coffeespoons



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Choking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:39:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9355394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeespoons/pseuds/coffeespoons
Summary: Violet and Katya - or rather Jason and Brian - run into each other in L.A. and reminisce about a close call on the road. And then they keep running into each other. Kinda. (2/3)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to the tireless efforts of the greatest RPF muse in the history of reality television: Violet Chachki.

_Meeting went well but idk. We’ll see what happens. Don't forget that I'm flying in at 7am Weds. Pls don't sleep in and make me have to talk to another fucking wannabe DJ who just does Uber as a side gig_

Jason sent off the text and headed out of the WoW offices. The young Queen looked up from a particularly hypnotic thirst trap in time to notice a black-clad guy in a baseball cap also stopping to check his phone before exiting out onto the street. A smile crept onto Jason’s face.

“Dad?”

Katya - well, Brian, at the moment - whipped his head around to find Violet Chachki- or Jason, rather; Violet would surely be into a guy that jacket, but wouldn’t be caught dead in it, not to mention the floppy hat- standing in the doorframe of the now abandoned WOW waiting room.

“I thought I smelled something,” Brian cackled, swooping his young friend into a hug, lifting skinny Jason Dardo off their feet like an uprooted sapling. He threw in a couple dry humps before setting the young Queen down and stepping back to get a better look.

“Look at you, you fuckin’ giraffe carcass.” He tweaked the big black hat covering Jason’s head. “Is nice,” he said, Russian accent thick, before dropping back into his natural voice: “How are you?”

Jason shrugged. “Getting laid, getting paid… I missed you, bitch.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m an _All Star_. No! You don't even answer my texts, bitch!”

Jason rolled their eyes. _That’s not true, but it’s not..._ not _true._

“Look, Katya,” Jason shifted, posing. “I have to maintain boundaries. I am, after all… a winner.”

Brian laughed through his teeth as he slowly wrapped his hands around Jason’s neck. Jason laughed as the smaller man thought better of this move, dropping his hands and stepping away with a sniff.

“No, no…” he said. “You'd like that too much.”

Jason stared at Brian, taking her in. It was a night off, apparently, so her - _his_ , Brian’s, beard was creeping in, a touch of silver shining on his cheek. Jason suppressed a weird urge to reach out and touch it.

Jason really had missed Brian more than they realized; not Katya blowing up Violet’s twitter mentions at 2am with some amusing nonsense (Jason hated this because it was stupid but also because it made them miss Brian’s sleep-deprived babbling on that disgusting tour bus), but Brian, right here, rolling his eyes and huffing behind those big, fake glasses.

Brian, who always answered the door when Jason, drunk and giggling and full of dumb ideas, knocked.

“I honestly don't remember the last time I saw you when we weren't like. Working,” Jason said, finally. Brian nodded slowly, his features narrowing with suspicion.

“You're being shady,” he said, the smallest hint of a laugh in his voice. “You're judging me for living my lumberjack fantasy.”

Jason rolled their eyes. “No, bitch. Sometimes I just forget that you're like…” And now Jason did dare to reach out, their thumb just barely grazing the edge of Brian's cheekbone,”...a dude.”

Brian's eyes locked with Jason's as they slowly dropped their hand away from his face, a curious smile tugging at his lips.

“Excuse you,” he said, scratching his chin. “Some of of the most beautiful women in the world have aggressive facial stubble.”

“Whatever you say,” Jason said. “Hot douche.”

That smile returned. “That's ‘hottest’ douche,” Brian said.

“I wouldn't go that far.”

Brian laughed. “I see what you're doing, Chachki, and no, I will not choke you out, you horny, horny, little freak.”

 

*

 

About two thousand variants of “you're fucking stupid”s later, Jason followed Brian home to his new pad in the hills which was, as expected, a fucking disaster.

“You need to hire a damn maid, bitch. Get it together." A thick booklet on the coffee table caught Jason's eye. They took a hit off Brian’s vape pen and leaned over to pick it up, flipping through the pages. “The fuck is this? Your erotica manuscript? Am I in it?”

“I know you'll probably never see one of these again,” Brian began, “but it's a film script, darling.”

Jason stared at him, a small smile sneaking across their face. “Biiiiitch.”

Brian grinned, snatching the script away and tossing it back onto the table. “Got my SAG card and everythang.”

“Girl, you don't gotta tell me,” Jason said. “I've seen your balls.”

Brian snatched a throw pillow and began to beat Jason with it. “Rotted-gutted-giraffe-cunt!” He tossed the pillow across the room and waited for Jason’s giggling to subside. “I'm still not gonna choke you.”

They sat on the couch in silence for a long stretch after this, smoking. And then Jason said:

“Do you remember Manchester?”

Brian nodded.

“No, I mean…” Jason looked at Brian now, who returned their gaze, his face unreadable. “Do you remember…? It was my birthday…”

Brian nodded again, slowly. “I remember.”

“You were so funny,” Jason muttered, embarrassed. Not sure why they brought it up. “You like, slapped my phone to the ground.”

“Girl.” Now there was an edge to the Bostonian’s usually soft voice. “You were blitzed and I was in my goddamned motherfuckin’ robe. I didn’t want you to record whatever was happening.”

“Yeah, but. What was happening?”

Brian rolled his eyes, tossing his glasses onto the table.

“I don't know! I mean, at the time I had half a mind to think you were gonna ask me to put my dingaling in your butt, but instead…”

“Tell me I didn't ask you to do a shot with me,” Jason said.

“Ya asked me to do a shot with ya,” Brian replied, voice low and slow, Southie accent thick. “Birthday cake vodka, if I recawl.” He cleared his throat and took a huff off his pen. “Something vile like that.”

Jason squeezed their eyes shut and sighed, collapsing backward onto the couch.

“We didn't,” Jason groaned.

“No, no.” Brian cooed, patting and rubbing Jason’s thigh. When he stopped, Jason opened their eyes and looked at him. He was staring straight ahead at the taxidermied fox frozen on the table. “You did give me a handjob, though.”

Jason’s jaw dropped. Brian met his gaze, stone faced, for what felt like an eternity before finally breaking into a grin.

“You fucking bitch,” Jason felt their heart beat return to normal and relaxed into the couch, Brian’s cackle cracking into their fuzzy brain like a baseball bat.

 

*

 

They watched a couple of episodes of Hoarders and chatted a bit about Garbage Island and inevitable environmental destruction before Jason, reluctantly, decided to head back to their hotel in the city,  
a) because it was very late, but mostly  
b) because Brian did not offer them a place to sleep, whether that be a spot on the couch, or in his bed.

Which was… fine. It would have probably been a little weird anyway.

Actually, the only odd thing was how Brian dodged Jason’s texts the next day. Which was... well, too bad, because before they knew it, Jason was back home in NYC, working, goofing off with Brad, and trying not to let their mind wander back to the blond Masshole in the Hollywood hills.

Which was... difficult, seeing as Katya had infiltrated every aspect of “mainstream” drag and could be avoided about as effectively as one could avoid salt. You can try your damndest, but bitch, it's in everything. Especially if you leave the house. Even in fucking Williamsburg.

So after about a month of this, Jason went out, got drunk (oh, they were having a good time), whipped out their phone and tweeted: _I am so going to fuck @Katya_Zamo in Mexico City._

 _Ignore_ that, they thought, slipping the phone back into their pocket and grinning at a drunken and very perplexed Bradley Callahan, who hesitantly smiled back.

“What?” He said, handing Jason a colorful shot.

“Go look at what I just tweeted,” Jason said, downing the drink and yelping like a wet poodle.

Brad opened up his phone and scoffed. “Bitch, nobody's gonna buy that.”

Jason squinted at him, offended. Brad took a long sip of his drink, waiting. Jason thought for a moment, swiftly tapped out another tweet, pocketed the phone again, and snapped their fingers for a another shot.

Brad refreshed his timeline and barked out another laugh. “ _There_ we go. That'll do, pig.”

 

*

 

The alcohol was fun but it did nothing to keep Jason from obsessively refreshing their mentions; they’d never seen so many .gifs of Trixie fucking Mattel in their life, but that was kind’ve funny, at least. If anything, this little stunt would at least get the fans going, which Jason lived for.

A reply from @PearletsButtPads with a link to some bootleg YouTube video caught their eye: _“Even after she said Ginger deserved your crown? Girl I guess…”_

 _Mute. Blockéd._ Jason thought for a moment. No, shit. Then they’ll know. _Unblocked._ Cunt.

The room was spinning and their ego was stinging like a motherfucker. Their phone whistled with a new message. Jason opened it so fast they nearly tossed it across the floor. It was a text from Trixie:

_“Thanks for the fucking literal hundreds of tweets clogging my shit. So cool.”_

Jason rolled their eyes and sent Firkus back a series of the unflattering Trixie screencaps riddling their mentions in wordless reply.

Another message. Not Trixie. Jason grinned.

Katya had replied with .gif of a winking lesbian.

Well, Jason thought. That’ll have to do.

*

 

A few days later, Jason was in Mexico City. The last BOTS stop of the year, and maybe ever for some, if Brian’s mumbling about retiring and leaving the RuGirl life behind held any water. Jason doubted any of that was imminent; Katya was still very much in demand. But the thought still made them a little sad. But only a little.

They walked into the dressing room, and Brian was at his mirror, starting his face. He spotted Jason’s reflection and grinned.

They hugged. “No hat today?”

“No hat today,” Jason replied, taking a step back to take in Brian’s hard new physique. “Jesus Christ, Hollywood Hogan.”

Brian cackled, horrified. _“Hogan?_ Don’t start, you fuckin’ dickpig.”

Jason pulled out his chair, still staring at Brian. _What the fuck._ “It’s really just the hair,” they said, igniting a delightful series of curses from the older Queen.

 

*

 

The show was a blast, as usual. A few of the girls, including Katya, were staying over a day to explore the city, so they made tentative plans to hit up a dispensary Katya had been recommended and have a little fun.

Violet was excited, wondering if they should use to opportunity to embarrass Katya in front of the other girls by bringing up the Ginger bullshit when he was in the midst of an edible-induced stupor. And they would have, but Katya ran out of the room at just the right time to diarrhea shit herself.

Violet figured they’d put a pin in it. Whatever. They're having fun, for once - why fuck that up just yet?

An unpleasant shiver settled in Jason’s gut.

 

*

 

Mexico was a wash. Violet and Katya kissed and hugged and said their goodbyes, made empty promises to get together sometime, and Brian and Jason boarded their flights.

Jason didn't bother mentioning that they had business in L.A. in the coming weeks. They assumed Katya would be on the road, and if not… well. It was probably for the best not to get their hopes up.

Jason made his way down the empty hall and stopped in front of one of the dressing rooms, debating a mirror selfie. They were excited and they wouldn't be able to say a word about any of this for probably months…

Jason glanced around for any stray interns, and finding the coast clear, slipped into the room, where they found a half-naked Katya Zamolodchikova. Well, Brian. It looked like Jason had just missed Katya.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“What the _fuck_?” The words barely left Brian’s mouth. Jason collapsed against the door, wheezing. _What the_ fuck.

 _Jesus_ , Jason thought, reeling themself back to Earth. _They must keep this bitch on a tight leash._

They decided to actually use this as their opening line, to which Brian cackled and said, “Are you stalking me?”

“You fucking wish, bitch.”

“I do,” Brian nodded frantically, “I'm very lonely.”

Jason explained that they were just passing through, having worked out some kinks regarding a pilot they were hoping to shoot in the new year, and Brian had just wrapped some...thing he wasn’t really willing to discuss in much detail.

“Finally made that porn you're always talking about?” Jason said.

“Girl please. You know I'd need you as a technical consultant,” Brian winked, shrugging on his coat. “But you are gonna love it.”

Jason couldn't help themself: “I don’t really ‘do’ Youtube shows, Katya.”

Brian stared at Jason and shook his head, irritated. “Oh,” he said. “I miss you. I miss you all the time, you skunky cunt.”

Jason laughed and pulled him into a hug. Before they separated, Jason said: “wish I could say the same, but I’m a little sick of hearing about you saying I stole Ginger’s crown or whatever.”

Brian stiffened. He pulled back, looking up at Jason. “I never said that,” he said.

Jason pursed their lips. They were used to being the subject of shit talking, used to the disrespect and jealousy, but this was... a sore spot. More so than they’d realized before they’d said it outloud. Of all the queens, they didn't think Katya would still be flapping her big fucking mouth like that. _It’s not personal, it’s drag, blah blah blah,_ but Jason just thought… Well, whatever.

They'd gotten so close over the years, working, touring. Hell, there were a couple times...Paris, Vancouver...where some of that playful rubbing and groping between Katya and Violet, and Brian and Jason - and whoever they were in between - got a little intense.

But they kept cool. They kept it professional. It was a lot less risky to just slink back to the hotel room and bust a quick nut, or fuck off with road trade… Why mess things up with a colleague - a sister - when you have so many more practical options?

 _I guess we won't have to worry about that anymore_ , Jason thought.

“Once a hot mess…” They muttered.

“Jason.” Brian grabbed their hand. Jason looked at their joined hands for a moment, met Brian’s eyes and shook their head. “Violet,” he amended, squeezing the pale hand. Jason’s posture relaxed and Brian took the cue to lead this conversation to the the couch. Jason followed, begrudgingly, letting Brian keep his hand as they sat next to each other.

“Whatever I said,” Brian held Jason’s captured hand between both of his, “I didn't mean it. Not like that.”

“Of course you did, Yekaterina.” Jason extracted themself and drew their hands to their sides, a weird pleasure crawling up their spine at the dejection painting Brian’s features. “You're entitled to your wrong opinions like everyone else.”

Brian pulled a distressed face that yanked Jason back to their long days in the workroom years ago.

 _At least she's figured what to do with that hair,_ Jason thought. _What's left of it._

“Violeeeeet…” Brian clawed at his face and slid forward until he was face-down on Jason’s thigh, where he mumbled, “you're making me feel like such a cunt. Not the good kind. Come on...”

Violet stared at the morose blond head bowed before them. After a moment of listening to Brian’s fake sobs, they sighed loudly and placed their hand on the back of his head.

“Katya,” Jason drawled. They felt the muscles work in the smaller man’s face as his mouth quirked up in a mischievous grin. “I forgive you.”

Jason watched Brian’s shoulders relax and curled their fingers tightly into his hair.

“Don't be such a bitch, bitch,” Jason said. “You're not good at it.”

This earned a shiver and a giggle from the other girl. Jason loosened their grip, so Brian reached out to grasp the young Queen’s wrist, lifted it away from his head, and slowly rose to face those pursed lips with an amused grin. He brought Jason’s knuckles to his lips.

“Yes, your majesty,” he said.

Jason ignored their twitching cock and rolled their eyes. “That might've actually been sexy if you had fucking eyebrows, bitch.”

Brian whipped his head to the side with a laugh, as if he'd been stricken. He tightened his grip on Jason, pressing a series of rapid kisses up and down their long arm, finally earning a genuine laugh from the young Queen.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm _sorry_ ,” Brian finally released the arm, letting it rest against the cushion. He didn’t leave it alone long, though, quickly intertwining his fingers with Jason’s, staring down at their joined hands.

“You’re so fucking stupid.” Jason watched him, reflecting on how, once again, this manic clown had completely obliterated any lingering resentment they had been holding on to. “You're an idiot.”

Katya was good at that. Brian was really good at that.

Brian disengaged their conjoined hands to hold two fingers in place of his absent eyebrows and asked, “Are you hard right now?”

Jason stared at him.

“A little.”

Brian cackled.

“You fucking whore! I knew it.”

“What can I say,” Jason drawled. “Groveling just does it for me.”

“I have a boner too! See? I can admit that. Totally natural and not awkward at all. Just two colleagues with erections being emotionally vulnerable…”

“Just girly things.”

They laughed at how stupid this was. It got a little quiet until Brian finally said something.

“Well, Miss Chachki... Lady to lady…”

Jason braced for the incoming joke, but felt their eyebrows climb up instinctively. Something in Brian’s tone, his posture…

“...if you ever want to do something about that,” his green eyes slid to Jason’s crotch before meeting their eyes, and then in his fucking valley girl voice said, “I'm your girl.”

_Tongue. Plop._

Jason felt their mouth hang open as they really and truly considered the creature before them. Katya. No; Fucking Brian _fucking_ McCook.

They were just staring at each other now, Brian only smiling slightly.

Jason shook their head and thought about Paris, about Vancouver. Hell, fucking L.A. Fucking L.A. always got weird.

And then there was motherfucking Manchester.

Jason refocused on the carefully styled haircut they had just moments ago ruined, leaving Brian with his natural Jesse Pinkman-at-age-45 look.

They weren't even mad anymore. But it might make them feel a little better to claw at that hair again.

“I’m into daddies, Katya,” Jason said, carefully. “Not weird crossdressing uncles.” Brian’s smile melted into a grimace.

“You rotted, gutted... Look. Violet? I would be more than happy to spank you, if that's what you want. Not even as a sex thing. As your friend and colleague, I will bend you over my knee right now.”

Well.

As his words pinged around Jason’s buzzing brain like a pinball, they thought: the only thing more insane than fooling around with Katya in this deserted dressing room would be running back to their hotel, again, to strip their cock raw, _again_ , to fantasies of getting fucked by motherfucking… _Brian_.

Jason started laughing. Brian’s face fell. His ears turned pink as Jason’s shoulders shook. He looked like he was trying to force a laugh, but couldn't quite conjure it up - and Jason felt a little bad about this, but they just could not stop.

“I'm sorry,” Brian mumbled. “That was a little-”

“You dumb whore,” Jason cut in, grabbing Brian by the collar of his coat and yanking him into a kiss.

After a minute or two of fevered, sloppy, I-can't-believe-this-is-real-and-not-a-bit-for-once making out, Brian’s eyes shot open with a “wait,” as he pulled away from the flushed Jason Dardo straddling his lap and fumbling with his fly. “You know I really do have herpes, right? It's not gonna be a problem, I just...you know…”

Jason let out an annoyed grunt. “You're not special, Katya.”

Brian laughed and buried his face into Jason’s chest. “I'm just-”

“If you don't have herpes,” Jason said, finally slipping their hand around Brian’s cock, “you're not. Doing. Drag.”

 

*

 

Now, Jason hadn't really been expecting more than some intense making out and maybe a dry hand job. That's how these spur-of-the-moment sisterly hook-ups usually went; after weeks or even years of tension, you both remember what the other one looks like under all the drag and something brief and sexy happens. But just for a moment.

This moment kept stretching on and on and on and neither Jason nor Brian or Katya and Violet made any indication that it needed to stop there; and then again, they were both Queens notorious for pushing it.

So when things progressed and Brian finally said to Jason, “I want to fuck you until shit comes out of your ears,” Jason grabbed a fistful of Brian's hair, yanked his head back, looked him in the eye and said, “then fuck me.”

“Okay,” Brian breathed, his grin creeping back, “but not here.”

*

 

They stumbled into the building across the street, Jason staring at the glowing vending machine - the only source of light in the dark...studio? It was hard to tell - as Brian fumbled around looking for a light.

“What is this place?” Jason asked, picking up a disturbing baby-face mask. Brian took the mask and placed it ever so gently back up on the shelf it occupied, along with various other props and knickknacks.

“Willam’s,” Brian said, leading Jason over to a very broken-in looking couch. “I've been shooting some stuff here and, uh. I think he'd be fine with this.”

“Couldn't just spring for an Uber, bitch?”

“It's rush hour and if I don't fuck you in the next two minutes I am literally going to combust and burn this entire city to the ground,” Brian said, pulling Jason into a rough kiss. And yeah, he tasted like a cigarette butt soaked in black coffee, but when he tried to pull away, Jason pulled him back in again.

“I'm assuming you know where he keeps his lube and shit?” Brian nodded. Jason pulled him in close, fastening their teeth to his earlobe. “Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”

 

*

 

At some point they wound up against the vending machine, but only for a moment as Jason suspected Brian was trying to see if they could knock anything loose; and if that wasn’t enough, once they finally made it back to the couch, Brian almost ruined everything by slamming himself into Jason and grunting, “it's not that, fuck, you fucking bitch - I don’t think you deserved -” he bit into Jason’s shoulder as Jason murmured, _“what? Oh fuck,”_ \- “you deserved it, I was just- Jesus _Christ_ \- commenting on society’s tendency to-”

Jason grabbed him by the ears so that they were eye-to-eye and snarled: “Bitch if you don't shut the _fuck_ up and make me come, I am never going to fucking speak to you again.”

Brian answered with bruising thrusts, wrapping his free hand around Jason’s slender throat as the young Queen’s claws found their way, once again, to the back of Brian’s tender head.

 

***


End file.
